Zenon's Game Chapter 330

The pill bottle was hollow. It fit in the palm of my hand and left me wondering how much damage something so small could cause. What were the pills for? The medication on the label read like kryptonese to me.

I turned the bottle slowly, re-reading the black printed letters, hoping I had mis-read who it was prescribed to. Zenon stood quietly in front of me and waited for me to process the sad information. He wasn't usually patient, but this was an exception.

He was standing like a model for a jeans campaign: muscular, shirtless and wearing nothing but his jeans with the button open that showed the black band of his boxers. Waiting for me to react.

"Axel, Texas maybe?" I asked, refusing to accept the words on the bottle.

Zenon usually has a comeback for my comments, but this time he didn't have the heart to make fun of me. It was heart breaking enough to see his best friend's name on the pill bottle.

Axel Thomas

I hope Axel is ok. Forget the blackmailer situation. If this medication is real, the boy is probably suffering.

"Maybe there's a clue in the fine print," I said, reading the tiny disclaimers at the bottom.

Only part of my brain was making sense of the medical language I was reading. The rest of me was trying to piece together the how, the why, the where...

It just wasn't adding up.

"Zenon," I asked, looking at my boyfriend for his input, "Is this real?"

"You're not dreaming-"

"No, I meant the bottle," I said and rephrased the sentence, "Does Axel need to take medication in real life? Maybe the bottle is fake."

It must be easy to buy an orange tube and glue a fake label on it if the blackmailer wanted to frame Axel.

I wish Oma was here. She's head of the chemistry club and I bet she'd know what this medication was for.

Zenon has never told me much about Axel's history before and now he said the words I dreaded to hear, "It's real. That's Axel's medication."

He's always protected his best friend's privacy and, even now, he wouldn't reveal more. I knew Zenon well enough to understand that he would not tell me Axel's story. Axel is his best friend and the dark thought lay like a gulf between us:

Was Axel the blackmailer?

I stretched my arm out to give Zenon back the bottle. I didn't want it anymore.

Axel had been the first of Zenon's friends to ever accept me. He was our ombudsman. He's supported us as a couple long before we were ever even a couple. What would his motive even be?

I remember Axel's cheeky smile as he ate bowls of my fruit loops in apple cabin this summer. Or the first time I ever saw him, emerging out of the ocean with a surfboard under his arm. He lights up every place he walks into.

Zenon took the medication from my hand and walked to the kitchen's island counter. He dropped the pill bottle onto the wooden surface and gripped the countertop, leaning against it like it could carry the weight of our problems.

I approached him slowly, knowing how conflicted he must be feeling: Torn between his relationship with me and his friendship with his best friend. If I hadn't found the bottle, I don't think he would've told me.

Zenon took a seat. He leaned forward and rested his elbow on the counter. He ran his hand through his messy hair and stayed there, staring down.

I pulled out the bar stool beside him and sat down. I placed my hand gently on Zenon's back, feeling his shoulder muscle tense under my touch. I gently rubbed his back, softly touching his smooth skin. I wanted him to know I was here.

Zenon turned to me, and his eyes were so emotive they drew me in. He was hurting.

"I refuse to believe it's him," Zenon said, "Axel wouldn't do this. I don't know how the blackmailer knows about his history but they're exploiting it."

I looked away from Zenon to the pill bottle on the counter between us. "It's hard to believe Axel is behind it. The blackmailer's been smart until now. It feels stupid to leave a prescription bottle with their own name on it."

Unless they're trying to hide in plain sight. Make us believe it was a set up to steer us away from the right track.

"They're making us suspect our friends," Zenon said, getting angry, "But it has to be someone close to us. The blackmailer knows us too well."

"I wouldn't call Julia a friend," I commented, thinking about how she was framed for the jersey incident.

If we believe her story, that is. I still haven't ruled her out as a suspect.

"Whoever this is, knows you, Candy. They know you and Julia's relationship history, your home layout-"

"They know you too," I interrupted, not wanting all this doom-and-gloom put on me, "Axel's medication is private knowledge, right?"

"Right," he said, "but I know a lot of people. It'll be easier for us to narrow it down if we start with your circle and where it overlaps with mine."

Was he really calling me out for having so few friends right now?

Zenon leaned forward suddenly and extended his arm over the counter, pulling a drawer open on the other side. He glanced at me, and I pretended like I wasn't staring at his upper body. I liked watching him stretch. It calms me down. Sue me.

He reached over and grabbed a notebook and pen from the drawer he'd just opened. I watched him sit back and crack the book open, flipping past his mom's grocery lists to start writing on a blank page.

After scribbling over it, he put the pen down and passed the notebook to me.

I read the first words:

"Sweeper lift? Sweet list?" I gave it a couple attempts.

He glared at me.

"Come on Zenon," I sighed at his attitude, "We both know your handwriting is not your strong point."